


Drosera

by coffeeincluded



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Daemons, F/M, First Time, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Pre-Timeskip | Academy Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-09
Updated: 2020-12-09
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:29:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27976626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coffeeincluded/pseuds/coffeeincluded
Summary: Ferdinand has been looking forward to the ball for some time, especially after this astonishingly wretched year. And he would love nothing more than to dance with his dear Bernadetta, assuming she is willing to do so.
Relationships: Ferdinand von Aegir/Bernadetta von Varley
Comments: 1
Kudos: 15
Collections: Fernadetta Week





	Drosera

**Author's Note:**

> So this is the NSFW bonus scene for my fic during and after the ball. I wrote this for Fernadetta week but real life slowed me up a bit. But better late than never; I hope you enjoy!

Ferdinand von Aegir truly loved dancing, which was why this was such a disappointment. No, not Professor Byleth choosing Dorothea over him as the Black Eagles representative for the White Heron Cup—although being passed over certainly stung, he had to concede that, as a professional opera star, Dorothea was a superior dancer to him. Furthermore, Calphour was more easily visible and just as graceful as Embrienne; he would make a more striking contrast to Dorothea’s dancing than Embrienne could to his. The minimum standards of nobility—standards which so many of his titled peers shamefully failed to live up to—demanded that he be graceful and humble even in the face of defeat or rejection. Besides, there would be plenty more opportunities to dance at the ball. 

And that was the issue. Because while Ferdinand loved dancing, whether on his own or in front of others, Bernadetta despised it.

It was not merely that Bernadetta despised it, but it absolutely petrified her. And given what he now knew about her childhood, he could not blame her. 

When Ferdinand was a young boy, his mother would gently wipe down his scuffed-up face and clothes, her daemon gently admonishing Embrienne to be less pugnacious, more like the young gentleman his mother knew he could be. He would get dressed into more formal wear, meet his father downstairs, and learn all the noble dances step by step. Afterwards his father would tell him about the history of these dances over tea. When Embrienne settled, his father hired a tutor with a ladybird daemon, so she could learn how to float and move with him. 

Bernadetta did not tell him how exactly her father taught her to dance, but Ferdinand could hazard a guess anyway. 

Regardless, the problem was this: Ferdinand loved dancing while Bernadetta was petrified by it. And while he was more than content to dance with other people at the ball—Lorenz has been smarting ever since his loss to Dorothea in the White Heron Cup and Ferdinand was confident that a dance with one of his closest friends would cheer the Alliance noble up—he wanted so badly to share that first dance with Bernadetta, show off his lovely girlfriend to the rest of the academy. But Bernadetta would not want that at all, and so it did not feel right to even ask such a thing of her. 

Ferdinand cared deeply for Bernadetta. Loved her, perhaps, though he was not quite ready to say those three words out loud just yet. He knew going in that there were things that Bernadetta may never feel comfortable doing, compromises that his extroverted nature would have to make, and he would gladly make those for her sake. For example, Ferdinand had no issues foregoing the usual process of offering himself up to Bernadetta’s parents for their inspection and formal approval to court him. Still, the prospect of not having that first dance with Bernadetta stung in a way that other compromises and concessions had not. 

“So just request this,” Embrienne said, crawling up and down his gloved hand. “What is the worst that could happen, that she says no?”

“You are correct, Embrienne, but we both know that she would never agree to it. Why would I ask Bernadetta to do something that we both know would cause her distress?”

“Hmmm, that is true…” Embrienne flew thoughtful circles around Ferdinand, eventually coming to rest on the bridge of his nose. “What if I were to ask Malecki instead?

That did make sense. Although Bernadetta had made remarkable strides over the course of the year, she was still liable to panic at the prospect of an extreme stressor like dancing in the middle of a ball. Malecki was less likely to spiral as quickly. So Ferdinand nodded and said, “I believe that would be acceptable.”

They did not discuss the topic until a few days later, bundled up under a shared blanket with a pot of steaming hot cinnamon tea, watching the first real snowfall of winter. Embrienne and Malecki curled up in the small padded case, embroidered with a cheery lilac hedgehog, that Bernadetta carried with her. She leaned forward when Embrienne asked Malecki, far enough out of the blanket that snowflakes dusted her hair. 

“This is something that’s really important to you, isn’t it?”

“It is.”

Bernadetta leaned down into the case (Embrienne flew up to give her room) and scooped up Malecki, held him close to share some secret conversation. He fought the urge to strain and listen to whatever passed between them both, but waited for Bernadetta to nod and say, “Would you be okay with one dance?”

Wait, what? Surely he had misheard. “Bernadetta, are you agreeing to dance with me at the ball? In the same room as many other people?”

Her face paled, her shoulders tensed, but Bernadetta nodded. “It’s, it’s terrifying to think about, but I think I can do it. No, I can do it, since it’s so important to you! You’ve done so much for me; I can do this!”

She could, Ferdinand realized, she could and he had underestimated her once again, his wonderful resilient beautiful brave Bernadetta, and told her this again and again as he kissed her through the pinpricks of falling snow.

Bernadetta could dance, and she did. Oh, she was the loveliest sight in the room, like a lightly clouded sunset nestled into his chest. Even without her training with her natural dexterity and grace she could match his movements with little trouble. Sure, there was no daemon to match Embrienne’s graceful flight like Ardior and Calphour did across the room, but that was no issue. Bernadetta dancing with him at the ball was more than enough. 

When the music died away Bernadetta looked up with those eyes as gray as the sea, a faint but genuine smile on her face. “Thank you,” she whispered, and brushed his knuckles against his lips.” 

“You were wonderful, truly.”

“I-it really wasn’t as bad as I was afraid it would be! Though,” Bernadetta looked around at the crowd of people all around them, “It was a lot. I’m okay right now, but I think if I stay for another dance it might be too much?”

How could Ferdinand do anything other than beam? “You’ve already done more than enough, my little sundew.” He could stay a little while longer, perhaps learn the dances of Brigid that Petra was teaching Dorothea.

* * *

He was Ferdinand and Embrienne von Aegir! His palms should not be sweating; his fist should not be hovering over the door to Bernadetta’s room in hesitation!

“I suppose anticipation is more accurate,” Embrienne said, breathless and bouncing from nose to ear to nose again. “After all, this is not likely to stop at slightly unchaste kisses, is it?”

No, it was not, and Ferdinand found himself fidgeting at the thought of it. It was Embrienne who alighted on the back of his hand and gently nudged him forward, to rap his knuckles on the door. 

The pause would have made anxiety well up in him several months ago, before he knew that Bernadetta always needed to take a moment to center herself before opening her door and letting herself be vulnerable. Even if it was the man she was courting. 

“Although needing some time to steel herself would be particularly understandable right now, given—well,” said Embrienne with a nervous buzz. 

The door did open soon enough, and Bernadetta had already shucked off her dress in favor of a more comfortable evening gown with an embroidered pocket for Malecki. “Ferdie!” she said, her cheeks still a bit pink. “Is the ball already over? You didn’t leave early because of me, did you?”

Embrienne stopped her with a kiss to Malecki, and Ferdinand took advantage of her sudden pause to clarify, “Of course not! The celebration was coming to a close around the time I departed. I believe I saw Edelgard taking her leave not long after you did.” Where had Edelgard gone? Ah, it was no matter. For once, she was of no importance at all, not with Bernadetta before him. 

“Oh! Well, that’s, I’m really happy to hear that.” She stepped back and let him in; even with the door open it was much warmer and infinitely more inviting than outside. “I don’t want to hold you back from the things you enjoy doing.”

Was that what concerned her? Well, then he would simply have to kiss such worries away! “You do not, and you never could. Bernadetta, you were remarkably brave tonight.”

Malecki poked his head from the embroidered pocket at that. Her fingers played across his skull as they shared some hidden conversation. She looked back at Ferdinand, eventually, and said, “I was, wasn’t I? Yeah! I did it, I went to the ball, and I danced with you, and all those people were there and I did it anyway! I can fight now, and I stood up to my father! I can do anything!”

Time blurred then, lost in a surge of affection and pride, shown in embraces and countless kisses. When Ferdinand regained his senses, the two of them were making out on her bed. 

The thoughts spun around his head, though each kiss quieted them just a little bit more. What they were doing was quite ignoble! Rutting out of wedlock like filthy commoners or wild animals in heat, as his father and so many others in Enbarr would say, was not something that Ferdinand von Aegir, noblest of nobles, should do; it would just debase himself! That was what they would say, at least, while they simultaneously traded sexual favors for patronage—assuming the other party received anything in exchange at all beyond the “privilege” of receiving said nobles’...attention—blamed the poor and starving of Enbarr and beyond for their plight, and fattened themselves off the very people they were supposed to protect. 

In comparison, what could be more noble than showing Bernadetta just how much he cherished her? 

Ferdinand pulled back, pushed away the parts of him that began to shout shame, and took Bernadetta in, every beautiful inch of her. The way her hair fanned out around her on the pillows and sheets, the flush to her face, the slight softness to her. The way Malecki relaxed under Embrienne’s contented hum, The room was a tiny island of warmth in the wintertime, and he never wanted to leave. He leaned in again so their foreheads touched and asked, “Are you quite certain about this, Bernadetta? I know we decided against...against  _ intercourse _ for now, but I want to make certain that you are still comfortable with, ah, the physical intimacy that we are clearly about to indulge in.”

Bernadetta nodded, her cheeks bright pink, and said, “I-I want this! I’m scared, and I don’t think I’d ever not be scared, but I want this a lot more than I’m nervous about it.” And, as she said it, her knee caught against the growing bulge in his trousers. He gasped, all words stolen away, and Embrienne went slack against Malecki, caught in the sudden rush of pleasure. 

Time blurred into a dizzying spiral of sensation once more. There was the warmth of her embrace, the sweetness of her gasps and squeaks in his ears. Her skin, so much softer than his. Malecki, his spines smooth against his back and his happy squeaks in time with Embrienne’s buzzing. Her endless kisses, each one delightfully taking his breath away. 

He rolled down her gown and marveled at the perfection of her smooth skin, her bare breasts, round and soft, rising and falling with every stuttered breath. He showered them in kisses, ran her nipples along the palm of his hands. Took them into his mouth in a moment of inspiration, gently suckled them just to hear her gasp, a shuddering moan of “Ferdie…!” that sent his cock jumping painfully against the still-closed front of his trousers.

No matter though. His own pleasure could wait, this was all about Bernadetta. This was all about lavishing attention of every last beautiful inch of her. He dragged himself away from her breasts and kissed his way down her body. Trailed his fingers down his sides and murmured words of how wonderful and brave she was into her roughened rope scars. Anger briefly flared in him once more, and her father would pay, but it was alright, now. It did not matter—well, it did, but not here, not now, not in the quiet and peace, in the space they carved out for each other. How brave she was, so much braver than him, to have endured so much cruelty and still stand there, still accept—no, so eagerly seek out his touch. 

Ferdinand made his way up her legs, slowly, just to hear Bernadetta’s breath turn harsh and Malecki whimper for more. His hand stilled on the front of her shorts, palm splayed out over between her legs so he could feel the warmth, the wet,  _ her _ . Bernadetta bucked up into his open palm, clutched the sheets, whispered, “Ferdie,  _ please, _ ” and before Ferdinand realized it he had pulled off her sleeping gown and smallclothes in one smooth motion, parted her bare legs, and—and—

Bernadetta went silent and still. That one hand gripping the sheets was now covering her eyes. Malecki was silent, his quills...not out, but no longer completely flat and relaxed. Ferdinand sat up and placed hishand (which was still slightly damp from her arousal, he realized in one head-spinning moment) on the inside of her knee, and asked, “Is everything alright, my little sundew?”

“I—” Bernadetta peeked her soft gray eyes from behind her fingers, almost unbearably sweet, and she said, “I don’t look...weird, or ugly, or anything bad down there or anything, do I?”

Ferdinand took Bernadetta in, all of her. With dramatic flair, he slid his gaze down her body, down to where she opened herself up so sweetly for him. A hand on damp wiry curls, her hips bucked up into his palm. Part her legs and—ah,  _ that _ was why the romance writers used the metaphor of flowers. The soft petals, flushed with desire, her glistening nectar, the rosy bud that Dorothea had repeatedly emphasized the importance of during their, ah,  _ informative _ discussion. He dragged a finger up the seam between her legs, felt his heart skip a beat and Bernadetta whimper and jerk as it slipped briefly into the dip between her folds, and whispered, “You are the most gorgeous sight I have ever beheld, my dear Bernadetta.” And before her anxiety could flare up again, he silenced her with a kiss and his hands. 

It was so different from when he touched himself. It was so much wetter, the movements not like what he used for himself at all. But, oh, the little whines and moans of his name when he rubbed her clit, the way she bucked her hips as he stroked her folds, the glorious gasps and a hand through his hair when he slipped a finger  _ inside _ her. 

“You’re so  _ warm  _ in there,” Ferdinand gasped in disbelief. Somewhere on the nighttable, Embrienne lay limp and pliant from just how good it felt. 

Bernadetta didn’t say anything, nothing beyond a whimpered, “Ferdie…” and she was so warm. Nobody had told him, no person, no book, just how warm and smooth and sleek she was inside. He pumped his finger in and out experimentally, crooked it just to hear her gasp. It hurt, how much his cock strained painfully against his smallclothes, but if Ferdinand pulled it free now he was not sure how much he would be able to resist burying it in that plush warmth. Just the thought of it had him grinding desperately against her leg.

They fell into a rhythm like that, one hand rubbing and stroking her, the other hand flailing for whatever inch of Bernadetta he could reach—cupped her breasts, laced through her hair, as he drew out her pleasure for both of them to luxuriate in. The world outside faded away, until it was nothing but the two of them and their fumbling, exploratory touches. It was as awkward as it was arousing and he would not trade it for anything in the world. “Are you enjoying this, my little sundew?” Ferdinand whispered into her neck; he could not get enough of her. Would that he could wrap himself around her and remain in the comfort of her den, would that he could draw out this moment of peace and bliss and make it last just a little longer!

“Ferdinand, I—this is really, really goooood!” Bernadetta cried out, her last word drawn out with another swipe of his thumb over her clit, and she bucked hard enough that he lost his place. There was some more fumbling, some more awkward prodding, and Bernadetta sat up. Ferdinand immediately withdrew, and curled his hands into fists on his legs (his hand was a little cool from the moisture, it left a smear on his trousers, the scent of it alone made his head spin, and yet—)

“Bernadetta, I am—Have I done something wrong?” An awful chill ran through him. This was supposed to be about Bernadetta and her pleasure, about how much he adored her and wanted to make her feel as devine and loved as she deserved! “Goddess, did I hurt you?”

She shook her head, and the chill thawed, just a little bit. “No, no, not at all! It’s just, I, I…” She squirmed a little bit, then looked down at Malecki, nodded, and stared Ferdinand in the eye. “I like it like this.”

And then Bernadetta reached down, and spread her legs, and touched herself in front of him.

It—he did not even know where to  _ look _ . There was her, her  _ cunt _ , obviously, shiny-wet and clenching with need, and Ferdinand focused on how Bernadetta moved her fingers. Every flick, every stroke, exactly as she liked it. But then there was the way her body undulated, the way her head tilted back and her eyes fluttered shut and her mouth dropped just a little bit open. How the sheer pleasure slowly melted away her fear. He took her in and drank her down, and would that this moment would last forever! 

_ “Even if we have no idea what we’re doing,” _ Embrienne said, her voice soft and muzzy. She sprawled over Malecki, who had melted into a blissful puddle of quills. 

He had no idea, but neither did she, and for once that was okay. It meant they could enjoy learning about each other, piece by piece, and learn more for next time. 

When Bernadetta came, it was with his name stuttered on her lips, her soft walls clenched around his fingers. She pulsed against him and bucked like a wild colt, and how could anybody fake something like this?

Bernadetta quieted down, eventually and far too soon, her eyes closed, a distant smile on her face. She cracked open one eye, gray as the sea, and the reality of what they just did slammed full-force into Ferdinand. She just bared herself for him; she just  _ came _ for him. 

_ “Bernadetta,”  _ he groaned, desperately palming at the front of his trousers, the need for contact as sudden as it was overwhelming. He could take care of it himself, would not dream of asking too much of her. 

But Bernadetta surprised him once again, sat herself up and whispered, face flushed but gaze determined, “I, I want to see.” 

Then there was her hand over his, then her hand on  _ him, _ drawing him out and marveling at his length, the flushed head, the bead of moisture similar to her own that welled up at the tip. Her fingers were slimmer than his own, more tentative and exploratory, with calluses in different spots, and it was so very different than what he usually did to himself. 

It was impossible to remember what nonsense he babbled. What Ferdinand did remember was her searing grip, the swipe of her thumb. The little noise of surprise Bernadetta made when he spilled into her hand, the way she held him through it the same way he did for her. The world detonated behind his eyes and went fuzzy in a flash. 

When Ferdinand opened his eyes, he found himself gazing into Bernadetta’s; he had slumped against her with their foreheads touching. And yet she made no movement, no struggle to escape. Instead she smiled up at him. “Hey.”

“Hello, my lovely little sundew,” he murmured in return. Their hands were sticky with his seed; he automatically wiped them on his already-ruined clothes. 

“That was, that was really nice,” she said, tracing her clean hand in idle patterns up and down his back. On the night table, Malecki murmured affectionate and tired gibberish into Embrienne’s wings. 

“Only one really? I suppose next time I must put in a far more splendid performance.” A next time. Because of course there would be a next time, and a time after that, and countless further times still. He could not help it. His shoulders shook and laughter bubbled out of him, unable to contain the sheer joy and peace he felt with Bernadetta, here and now. 

“Ferdinand…?” Worry crept on her face and furrowed her brow. Begone, trepidation; it had no place there! He kissed her brow smooth, then kissed it some more for good measure. Kissed her soft lips, for he could never taste her enough, and said, “I am just...I’m so happy to be here with you, that I can hardly contain myself.”

Bernadetta’s face smoothed out, and the last of her concern melted away. “I’m happy to be here with you too. You—“ she made a soft nose in the back of her throat and snuggled up next to him. Without even thinking, Ferdinand wrapped an arm around her, guarding her from all harm, “I feel safe with you.”

“Thank you,” Ferdinand said, a little dazed, and then more than a little foolish. There could be no higher praise from the still-skittish Bernadetta, and all he could say was thank you? 

But Bernadetta did not mind, instead laughing soft and bright into his neck. She didn’t say much after that, for she felt safe enough to slowly fall asleep in Ferdinand’s arms. He soon drifted off after her, and could not ask for anything else in the world. 

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> I hope you all enjoyed this. Stay safe, wear a mask, and see you all next time!


End file.
